


Flash Paper

by Ijustneed12percentofamoment



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Torture, Emotional Roller Coaster, Fire Magic, Halloween, M/M, No Spoilers, POV First Person, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Spells are harder than tags, The Hobbit References, The Mage is craaaazzzyyyyyy, These two make me mushy, everything else is the same, lots of angst tho, obviously, soft vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 11:51:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20759906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ijustneed12percentofamoment/pseuds/Ijustneed12percentofamoment
Summary: Twelve days ago, the war started.Four days later, the Mage kidnapped me.





	Flash Paper

**Author's Note:**

> Please Note:  
\- I do NOT own any of Rainbow Rowell's beautiful, pure characters (well, the Mage ain't pure, but, y'know..)  
\- No spoilers for Carry On (well, maybe a teeny tiny bit) or Wayward Son  
\- A HUGE, massive, really big shoutout to [cas_makes_very_happy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cas_makes_me_very_happy) for editing and helping me figure out present tense (never again, I promise xxx)

Twelve days ago, the war started.

Four days later, the Mage kidnapped me.

I guess I have to give credit where credit is due though, because at least this time the tosser came straight out and did it himself rather than hire a band of fucking Numpties to do his dirty work.

This time however, the Mage isn’t playing around.

Because if it wasn’t him who got me first, it would have been anyone in the Coven – any one of the Old Families who want to see my head roll, since the Mage made my little secret public knowledge. I just hope my father isn’t getting accused for harbouring a vampire for the past fourteen years.

Crowley, no one’s going to let my family live down the whole gay vampire son thing, are they? I’ll go down in Magikal history for being the biggest disappointment in the Grimm-Pitch family tree.

Bloody wonderful.

In my defence, the Mage plays dirty. Not that it’s much of a surprize – the mad bastard used forbidden spells even I haven’t heard of to take control of my nervous system. I was mute and boneless on the ground before I could even finish uttering my fire spell. I couldn’t do a damn thing as I watched him stand over me in that ridiculous outfit, with his hood over his head like some twisted version of Robin Hood, before he leant down and scooped my wand from my limp hand. Somehow I still managed to growl at him, but he just stared at me like I’d proven him right, and he said as much.

“A monster like you doesn’t deserve a wand.”

I might have been numb from his spell, but I felt something break inside me like glass as I watched the Mage snap my wand in half.

Since then, I’ve been stuck in this infernal tower, just like I always knew I would be. Cold and hungry, with magic swirling inside of me with nowhere to go (although, I’m surprized I still have my incisors. Nicodemus’ fangless sneer still makes my skin crawl in the worst kind of way).

The Mage either emphasised the wrong word, or maybe he just did it too well, because I keep flinching against a phantom stabbing in my side. I haven’t eaten anything in a week and I’m so thirsty, I wouldn’t think twice about draining the last Unicorn in Britain. I managed to catch a rat three days ago, but unlike down in the catacombs, rats are far and few up here, especially in winter.

My suit is properly ruined (the Mage nabbed me on Boxing Day, two days after Britain’s biggest Magikal hole opened up over our estate), and the cuffs are torn, the deep blue is now faded grey with dust and dirt, and it’s been worn thin at the elbows and knees. Even my black shirt is torn from where one of his Merry Hench Men tortured me with a crucifix for hours yesterday, and my skin is still puckered and sore. The Mage’s man (a past student I never bothered to learn the name of, barely older than myself), hung the silver cross around my neck and pressed it into my chest, where it left angry red burns while he demanded answers about Snow.

“I’m not his fucking handler,” I spat. Like I’d ever give up information on Snow, the pillocks.

But he put his palm against the crucifix and pressed harder – I saw white flickering behind my eyes as I screamed, and I could have sworn to Merlin that I heard my skin sizzling. It wasn’t a fire burn, like most people thought. Vampires don’t burst into flames from crucifixes – it’s more of a chemical burn, like acid.

They could have just spelled me to tell the truth, but they didn’t – apparently the Mage didn’t want to give me the easy way out. Not that it would have helped anyway.

Simon was forced into hiding since the war was announced. The Old Families declared Snow the bringer of the end of Magic, and the Mage a traitor, so naturally Bunce spirited him off somewhere in attempts to hide him from the people tasked to hunt him down. People like me.

That was before, though.

Now I probably have my own bounty on my head.

Even if I did know where Snow was, I still wouldn’t tell them anything, so I snarled and swore at them instead, casting spells that went nowhere just to distract myself from the pain.

I haven’t seen the Mage since the day he kidnapped me a week ago (it feels like so much longer.) (Do vampires feel time differently like dogs do?) (Crowley, I must be going mad if I’m comparing myself to a damn dog. If anything I’d be a cat – we share a mutual disdain towards humanity.) Bloody Friar Tuck over there told me that the Mage likes to strip vampires of their fangs himself, so I guess I’ve been lucky he’s not here. But my gut is telling me something isn’t right, and just like magic, I hear his lorry of a car crunching along the gravel below, bringing with it the rolling of thunder on the horizon.

The Mage spares no time storming up to see me, and despite it all, I welcome him with a smile. Because I’m sure as fuck not going to let him see me scared.

I don’t move fast enough to avoid a kick to the ribs. Without food or blood, I’ve become lethargic and stiff from the cold. I laugh instead, and it comes out a little manic, but it drives him crazy. The Mage growls and grabs my collar, and I hear the expensive stitching tear further.

“_Where is he_?” he demands as he hauls me off the ground, and his eyes are wild and erratic – he looks properly unhinged. My feet are dangling and I don’t even have the energy to struggle. The Mage doesn’t give me time to reply. “I _need_ to find him, you don’t under_stand_…!”

He drops me and starts to pace instead. I’m too shocked at seeing the Mage completely off the rails that I’ve gone silent.

“The energy… I need his magic…” He’s muttering it over and over, and my brain struggles to connect the dots.

_Simon’s magic…_ But… the Humdrum is the result of Simon’s magic – of him going off…

I just figured that out after the night we’d faced him in the woods – I was on my way to tell Snow when the Mage got to me first. I thought it was all because of politics – because I was a vampire and he’d finally found a way to get to the Old Families.

But now…

I zone back in when he begins to sound dreamy.

“–Ever since I first found him, when I had him in my sights, he was so young and naïve, bouncing this little red ball… and I just _knew_ that he could help me. I could practically feel the weight of his magic.”

I feel the blood drain from my face as I process his words, before it all comes together in an awful, crushing clarity.

“–rather than feeding off his energy, I can finally just _take it._”

My head is spinning trying to keep up, trying to take in the enormity of it all… Simon isn’t the Humdrum – or… he is, but he isn’t at the same time. It’s still Simon causing the holes… but it’s _the Mage_ who was eating it all up – he’s the one purposely making Simon go off so that he can feed off the power.

_Mother of Merlin…_

“But he should have come for you already! _Why hasn’t he come?!_” He slams his fist against the wooden door and I jump. The Mage really does sound on the brink – I half expect him to start clawing at the ground screaming for his Precious.

My mouth speaks without me realising while I try and push myself to my hands and knees (I feel like my blood is turning to concrete), still trying to catch up.

“Why would he come for me?” I sound cautious, flippant even, but deep down I feel like I’m going to be sick. 

The Mage grins then, and spins to face me.

“Because I can see that there isn’t anything you wouldn’t do for each other, as pathetic as that is, and I _knew_ I had to take advantage of it.”

My breath comes in wheezes. I’m so fucking thirsty.

“You’re crazy.”

“_No_, not crazy – _desperate_. Hungry. I need Simon’s magic. He’s broken, damaged… that’s my own mistake… but I can fix that by taking it from him. I’m saving him, really.”

I flinch. There’s only one way to take a magician’s magic – you have to kill them. It’s forbidden for obvious reasons. (And fucking barney).

Anger starts to boil inside me at hearing the Mage call Simon damaged. I’ve always described Snow like the sun, and it’s true. Sometimes the sun goes off too (solar flares affect the Normal world much like it does our world), and yet no one thinks the sun is broken.

The Mage crouches in front of me and takes my jaw in his hand.

“I’m going to end all of this – the Humdrum, Snow, all of it.” His eyes glint, and my heart pounds with dread. But instead of giving him what he wants, I start laughing.

Because he’s fucking lost it, and I am not going to let him win. And because I’m petrified that he might.

He scowls at me and points his wand,

** _“Take a seat!”_ **

A wooden chair materialises under me, before the Mage casts again,

** _“Hold still!”_ **

Magic wraps around my ankles and wrists like invisible rope, binding them behind my chair. Splinters dig into my skin. Thunder rumbles closer, and the rain begins to ping against the stone.

“I’ll become the greatest Mage and restore balance. Simon and the Humdrum will be no more, and you’re going to help me do it.”

I’d once told Snow that this could only end in blood, with me weeping over his corpse – only now it seems it’s the Mage who wants him dead more than the Old Families.

My manic laughter trails off into sobs as I listen to the Mage’s steps trail away down the stairs.

_Simon, for once in your life, _please, _listen to Bunce and stay the hell away from me._

… 

The next day comes and goes in a sliding blur. I can barely keep my eyes open, and the pounding rain makes the night feel longer than it should.

I never knew I could reach the point of being so cold, that I’d actually stop shivering. I’ve been here before, in this dark, shadowy limbo state of life and death back with the Numpties, but I never thought I would have to do it again. I never wanted to have to come back here.

It feels like months drift by, where the world outside has been flooded and I’ve been stuck in an ark built especially for monsters like me. Lighting cracks and it stirs me enough to tune in to muted voices outside, the cold ache in my arms and the drone of rain that has become white noise inside my head.

Something heavy and wet is thrown on top of me then, and part of it clacks against my jaw and it groans sluggishly. I know the smell immediately (it took ages for the scent of sage and extinguished candles to get out of my pillow in our dorm room), and my heavy lids try to flicker open before I stifle a grunt when something sharp connects with my groin.

“_Fuck_, Bunce, watch the elbows.” (Is that _my_ voice? Crowley, I need water. Or blood.)

The tower is getting darker again, but the full moon illuminates us enough for me to make out her face inches from mine. She’s sopping wet and grimacing, holding her head where it collided with mine, and my heart quickens, because if Bunce is here, then where’s Simon…?

Her eyes go wide when she finally manages to see me in the moonlight.

“Baz…”

Do I look that bad? I feel like death (more than I normally do, anyway), and clearly I must look it, too.

She doesn’t look too crash hot herself – her skin has the tell tale dark spider webbing of forbidden magic – another disabling spell, then. Her ring’s gone, too.

Crowley, we’re in a right mess.

There’s lightning flashing through the open window, and even though the eye of the storm is still a few miles away, the thunder rattles my chair. Another strike of lightning illuminates the Mage behind Bunce, before he lights two torches by the door of my cell.

Bunce is still weak and shivering, but she turns to strike him anyway. The aim is short and the Mage catches her wrist, but I admire the effort. No wonder her and Snow get along so bloody well.

“You’re a monster!” She tries to yell, but her voice still hasn’t recovered, and it comes out like a radio caught in static.

The Mage smiles, not at Bunce, but at me.

“No. The monster is right here…”

He grabs her and in a movement so fast, it’s enviable (especially to someone tied to a bloody chair), he spins her to face me and brings a dagger to her throat.

Bunce gasps and my eyes are wide, frozen in horror. The dagger is short, and he presses it into the soft skin at the base of her throat, just above her collarbone…

_“No…!”_ My groan comes out low and ragged and only half genuine, which is the worst part.

The Mage presses the knife deeper and rich red blood immediately pools and begins to drip. Bunce cries out, trying to struggle, but he just pushes her closer to my face and I can’t stop myself from reeling. Blood glistens along the silver knife and drips onto my suit, and my jaw _aches_ from thirst, my incisors instantly filling my mouth like they’d been there the whole time.

Bunce looks like she’s about to witness her own murder. (Is she? Is the Mage that far gone?)

“Baz… please…don’t do this,” she begs, but I cant help it – I’m shuddering from wanting, but also from fear, because I don’t want to do this – I don’t want to kill Bunce.

But then there’s a flash of silver across my face and I feel the cool touch of steel against my skin. I flinch before the clattering of metal clacks against my teeth and there’s a whole new sort of panic pounding through my chest. It’s pounding so hard, my whole body is shaking from it.

Something snaps into place at the back of my head and I can feel a bar resting behind my fangs while another sits behind my bottom teeth, holding my mouth permanently open. I snarl and shake, and the whole chair wobbles – I try to bite down, try to snap the damn thing in half, but I’m not strong enough. To my horror, I feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes. (Crowley, I really am weak, aren’t I) (Keep it together, dammit).

Bunce is tossed aside and she stares in horror as the Mage steps towards me with a pair of pliers.

“Stop it!” she screams, but he ignores her.

I’m moaning and crying like a fool, and I can’t stop trembling.

“The last time I stripped a vampire of his fangs, he’d disobeyed me.”

_Nicodemus_.

(I was going to end up just like him, I knew it the moment I saw him under that glowing light of the club that night.)

“He brought shame to his family – even after he refused the best deal of his life.”

I frown, staring at the Mage as he watches me coolly. The disgust is plastered all over his face. “And you’ve done exactly the same.”

“What deal?” It’s Bunce who asks, but the Mage replies to me. He leans in closer to me until our faces are barely a foot apart. Lighting flares outside the window and illuminates something sinister in his blue eyes.

“The deal to kill your mother.” 

…

I always thought I’d be the type of person who’d shout and scream and fight in this sort of situation. But hearing the truth out loud after all these years – it slides like a knife straight through my heart. I can’t breathe. Tears spill down my face; hot, blinding ones that make my throat close up and my shoulders shudder.

Instead it’s Bunce that has the reaction I wish I could have, because all of a sudden she’s there, shoving between us and it’s a blur of movement. I’m shocked, because she’s bleeding and she’s practically on top of me screaming at the Mage that he’s a traitor and a bastard.

I’m trying to blink my eyes clear when I hear a cry, but it’s from the Mage – Bunce has grabbed his dagger and slashed him, the bloody maniac. I could have kissed her. But he growls and grabs her by the throat, before hurling her back against the wall. There’s blood gleaming across his leather tunic, and the dagger is lodged in his shoulder – he pulls it out with a grunt and tosses it aside before snatching up his wand.

**_‘Break a leg!_**’ the Mage cries, and there’s a stomach churning _snap_, before Bunce crumples to the ground screaming.

I’m trying to scream at him to stop but the metal bit in my mouth won’t let me. I can smell blood _everywhere_ and it’s making me fucking carnal (and not in the way you want it to) – my whole body is trembling, and I’m petrified of what I might do if I wasn’t tied down. The primal fear is spiking through my skull because there’s just noise and pain and blood and metal and thunder, and I just want to _die_ before the overload fucking crushed me.

The Mage points at her again and casts **_‘Silence is golden!’_** and the room falls eerily quiet except for my moaning. I turn my head as far as I can and see Bunce sobbing silently as she clutches her leg. She catches my eye and I can see her lips scream _Baz_, but it’s like she’s a video that’s been put on mute. Her skin is covered in forbidden magic marks – she looks like a doll that’s been repaired over and over again with tar instead of glue.

Is it my fault she’s here? Is this all just part of the Mage’s sick plan to try and lure Simon in and go off? When he grabs my chin and turns my head to face him, I know I’m right.

He grins – not me, but at what I stand for. I’m just another badge in his tunic – another head on his wall. And maybe it’s true – maybe it is too late for me, but I swear to Merlin that he won’t be adding Snow and Bunce to that list. Did he really think he could get away with it?

The Mage stands over me and tilts my head back. He clamps the pliers onto my right incisor and all I can do is scream as he pulls–

Lighting cracks and drowns out my screaming for a heartbeat, but the white noise is deafening inside my head–

I feel my tooth wobble and it starts to bleed, and I see spots across my vision–

Another crack of lighting lights up the whole room for a second, and in my desperate fear, I think I see wings silhouetted in the doorway behind the Mage–

** _“STOP!”_ **

My heart is pounding, and I realise I’ve pressed my eyes shut. Everything inside me is screaming, so it takes a second to realise that it’s gone quiet.

The Mage is frozen in place in front of me, but the pressure has gone from my tooth. I flinch away from him and see his two other Merry Men frozen in their running stances near Bunce.

I feel like I’ve gone deaf (have I?) (Can you go deaf from shock?) – there’s a warbled noise coming from somewhere and I try to move, try to find the source…

Someone shoves the Mage bodily out of the way, and he goes toppling to the ground like a statue – still frozen in place with the pliers in his hand.

I’m hyperventilating, but I can feel it more than hear myself doing it, and I think I must be in shock, because I flinch when hands hold my face, but as my eyes focus on golden hair, blue eyes, and red wings, my hearing snaps back with a ferocity that makes me gasp.

“–Baz…! Jesus _Christ_, oh Baz… I’m so sorry.” Snow’s fingers tear at the fastener behind my head and the metal frame comes free from my mouth. My teeth and jaw are aching something fierce, and my head droops as soon as Simon hurls the device away. I can’t stop shivering, and Simon kneels in front of me, holding my face as he presses his forehead against mine. Tears are streaming down both our faces, and Snow has his fingers tangled in my hair before I feel his magic seeping into me. It’s slow at first, almost like he’s worried the force of it is going to hurt me in the state I’m in, but when my breathing slows, he lets more of it go and I can feel it rippling inside me. I feel like all the cracks that were spreading throughout are slowly being filled in again with something hot and incandescent.

“Simon…” I whisper (my voice is properly ruined). “Simon, you need to get out of here. The Mage – he wants you dead.”

Snow frowns at me, and I can tell he’s still coming to terms with the fact that the man he looked up to for all these years was turning out to be a psychopathic, murderous prick. Snow angrily claws at the magical rope before he points his wand at my chair and spells **_“Let it go!”_**

“I’m not just going to leave you here, Baz.”

The invisible bonds around my wrists and ankles slither away, and my joints ache but my heart quickens with fear.

“_Simon_.” My voice is rasping and urgent, and he finally seems to _see_ me. “I need to eat…”

Snow’s eyes go wide but he doesn’t back away – he’s still holding my cheek (and still pushing magic into me), and I can feel his pulse against my skin and I shiver.

“Take Bunce and get out… I’ll… I’ll catch up.” I wince and grip the chair desperately. My breath comes out in panting rasps. “_Go…!_” With Snow’s magic coursing into me, it would have been enough to be a spell if I had a wand.

“Penny? You’ve seen Penelope?” He finally listens to me and lets go, fear in his eyes as he tries to peer through the darkness for Bunce.

Snow finds her and they shuffle around on the ground, but all I can hear is the white noise crashing through my skull, and the sound of blood dripping onto stone. My fangs ache and I dig my nails into my palms to try and hold on for a few more seconds.

Simon can’t undo whatever silent spell the Mage had cast onto her and he can’t push his magic into Bunce without hurting her, and she’s been hurt enough already.

“Baz–”

“Just go… I’ll be right behind you.” I’m trying so hard to keep my head held high, my body upright – and I think he believes me. Merlin knows I’ve had enough years practice at lying through my teeth to Snow.

He lifts Penny into his arms and sets his jaw.

“See you in a sec.”

I nod, and watch them disappear through the doorway and into the rain. Then I crumple inwards, groaning against the desperate craving burning through me. But there’s nothing up here to eat – no rats, no birds…

I’m trembling, trying to look for a way out, but there’s none. I feel like I’m drowning, and I can feel panicked tears on my cheeks again. I collapse from the chair onto my knees and double over on my hands, not knowing if I’m going to throw up or transform into something else. I’ve never gone without blood for this long. (Do vampires really burst into flames? Or turn into bats? Crowley, I’m not ready to be a bat) (I hate flying.) Instead I follow the smell of fresh blood – it’s drawing me in like a magnet and I just can’t pull away (I don’t think I really _want_ to pull away), and before I know it, I’m kneeling over the Mage. His blood smells warm and smoky, like a campfire, mixed with something hot and peppery.

Fuck, how many forbidden rules is this? But I don’t care, all I know is that I need blood, and he’s a lunatic, and he wants to kill Snow, and he kidnapped me first anyway, and I’m so bloody thirsty, and _he killed my mother._

My right incisor aches from where he’d pulled at it, and I flinch when it breaks through his skin and sends a shooting pain through my skull, but then blood fills my mouth and I bite down harder. I shudder as I feel it course through me, and even when I feel his whole body slump beneath mine, all I can think is _yes_.

Before I know it, his body is limp (clearly death can break spells), and I’m panting over the corpse like I’ve just been resuscitated (I kind of have been). There’s something hard in his tunic pocket beneath my hand and when I tear it open, Bunce’s ring tumbles out. Other people’s Magikal items don’t always work the same as your own – it’s the same as wearing someone else’s clothes or shoes – they’re always going to feel a bit strange. But considering I don’t have a wand anymore, I slip it onto my index finger. Bunce wont have much use for it while she’s mute, anyway.

Simon’s magic spurs me forward, but I still stumble and catch myself against the doorway. The storm is passing but the rain still falls in sheets and the full moon lights up the night. I can see Snow and Bunce down on the Keep roof below the tower, and I wonder what it would be like to fly while being held in Simon’s arms.

I half roll, half stagger down the four spiralling flights, and burst out onto the roof, heaving in the fresh air of freedom and letting the rain soak me through.

“Baz! _Thank god_.”

“Don’t celebrate too soon, Snow. We have to get out of this miserable place first.” I grimace and Snow frowns at me.

“I don’t think I can carry both of you…”

“I swear to Merlin, Snow, if you make bloody wings sprout from my back, I will murder you myself.”

He places Bunce down gently, and she hops on her good leg, resting her weight on Snow’s shoulder before he grips my shoulder and I feel that familiar, beautiful buzzing sensation. Simon’s magic is like alcohol – it leaves me warm and numb in the best possible way, and fuck, he just has _so much_ of it, it’s like he didn’t even notice that it was drowning me and I was letting him.

“You think you could spell something?” he asks, and I realise I had closed my eyes in my euphoric state, and try to gasp for air above the surface.

“With that much magic?” My voice is shamefully breathless and I think I’m blushing. “I feel like I could summon a dragon–”

An awful, skin-crawling cry comes from the tower above us and we all stumble back before the very image of a nightmare comes hurtling out of the stairwell: the fucking Mage, all fury and fangs, screaming after us.

_Fuck me…_

He bursts out into the rain and I instinctively step in front of Snow. He looks even more terrifying with fangs cutting down over his sneering lips, and I can’t even imagine the look of utter horror that must be on Snow’s face right now.

“Simon…” the Mage starts, but his eyes light up when he catches sight of something else–

I turn and see the shimmering image of the Humdrum (or Simon. I still don’t really know) on the other side of the roof and the Mage gasps.

_No… nononono._

Crowley, I wish I knew how to stop all of this – I wish I could just not think about everything like Snow does. The Old Families and the Mage both think that killing Simon is the answer, but as long as I’m still breathing I’m not going to let that happen. Simon’s magic needs an outlet – I have so much of it, and I’m quickly realising that this time the path isn’t paved with stars – it’s soaked in blood.

“Simon, get out of here!” I scream, running at the Mage.

“Baz, NO!”

“At last…!” The Mage has a manic smile and points his wand at Snow and I feel myself snap. So I do what Simon would do. I don’t think about it. I just act on instinct.

After being fuelled with Simon’s magic, my voice carries out through the darkness,

** _“I am fire, I am death…!”_ **

Everyone knows Simon is powerful.

They never get to _see_ that power, though. Not like this.

It’s hard not to be mesmerised as all of Simon’s magic spews out as fire from my outstretched palms and I watch, wide-eyed as the fire swirls around like an entity. Like a dragon doing my bidding. I stare as I see my very own vision come to life, if only for a moment, igniting everything in its path – the Mage, the tower, the whole damn world.

But this spell doesn’t discriminate – it’s not a protection spell. It’s a last resort.

And everyone knows vampires are like flash paper.

I see it happen in slow motion, and I can’t help but wonder if this is what my mother saw – what she felt when she cast her last spell.

I close my eyes and feel the rippling magic roll all around me, almost like a bubble – like an aura as it engulfs the entire tower.

The inferno dries my tears as they fall, and after being so cold for so long, I welcome the warmth, if only for a second–

.

.

.

.

_… Eyewitnesses have reported the late Mage, who had in recent times become severely mentally unstable, had kidnapped Grimm-Pitch and Bunce, and had plans to kill Simon Snow to gain power. Both Bunce and Snow report that Grimm-Pitch sacrificed himself to save them from the Mage with a lethal spell …_

_… Reports state that the latest hole in the Magikal atmosphere spans the entire perimeter of the compound, while the debate is still out as to whether Simon Snow was the result, or the Mage …_

_… After Grimm-Pitch, a Magical student at Watford, had been recently declared a vampire, plans had been underway to strike his name from the Book. However since recent events, most parties have declared him a hero, and a vigil to morn his death has been set to take place …_

_… Doctor Mitali Bunce, Penelope Bunce’s mother, has been appointed headmaster of Watford, and is currently rewriting many of the late Mage’s rules …_

.

.

.

.

The thing about Simon Snow, is that he just has to _think_ about doing something, and it damn well _happens_.

The bloody show off.

I don’t remember a lot from that night. Or the days after.

I vaguely recall Bunce’s mother crying, “Snakes, not again,” while being coddled into a blanket so soft, only magic could have made it that way.

I remember my mouth felt ashy (was that what Snow felt like all the time?) – I was so dried up, that even if I drank my weight in water, I’d still be thirsty. I remember feeling like I’d drunk gasoline – I could still taste the fire in the back of my throat.

Bunce had her voice back. Her and her mum were casting healing spells all over me in a continuous stream of babbling words. Simon was looking on fretfully and I frowned, not wanting to be the thing that made his eyes sad and his mouth pull down.

“Have you tried **_‘Live long and prosper’_**?” His voice sounded a thousand miles away, but my mouth curved up as my eyelids dipped.

I chuckled but wheezed through a cough instead.

“What a fucking nerd you are, Snow,” I rasped. “It’s shameful…”

I remember trailing off as I floated into a hazy, smoke filled sleep.

I must have dreamt that Simon carried me back in his arms, because I could feel the wind ruffling my hair, and the ghost of his arms around me, pressing me to his chest and whispering my name…

…

Bunce told me about that night at the tower.

I was curled up in her bed after sleeping for two days straight, when she told me the news that broke my heart.

Simon doesn’t have magic anymore.

She told me all about him ‘filling’ the Humdrum back up (that’s what Snow called it, apparently) (it sounds a bit whacked, if you ask me…), and how it’s stopped the holes in the atmosphere from growing.

She said he let it all out saving me – by protecting me in a bubble of magic. It wasn’t the same as him going off – she said it was like he’d opened a floodgate instead. Her descriptions filled in some of the blanks I had from that night, but all I could hear over and over again, was ‘Simon lost his magic’ and ‘He did it to save you’.

I didn’t know whether I wanted to kiss him or burst into tears (maybe I’d do both. Wouldn’t that be attractive).

Simon didn’t want my pity. So I ended up snogging him instead, and he snogged right back. I didn’t even care when our teeth clacked and a dull ache echoed through my jaw.

It took a while, but my teeth healed.

Then came the newspaper articles.

I gave up reading after a while – as morbid as I can be, it just didn’t feel right to read my own obituary. Not just yet, anyway. (I wasn’t even cold in my grave yet.)

Fiona was the only person in my family to be let in on my secret lack of mortality, only because we needed a place to stay, and well, her London flat was going to be empty now that she was heading to Europe. None of us could hide our bewilderment when Bunce and Fiona hit it off like old chums, and I was properly offended when she offered Bunce the main bedroom and not myself.

“I’m your _dead_ nephew.”

“Main bedrooms are for people who don’t have a fucking gravestone, Baz. You cost me ten years worth of grief in one month, and I will never not be bitter about it.”

Alright, I guess I deserved that. Besides, Fiona gave me back my magic by gifting me with one of my mother’s silver rings. I never knew she had it, and it feels as natural as my old wand. Bunce thinks we have a connection now.

Sometimes I still have nightmares about it all – about the Mage tearing out my teeth; about the Mage winning and Simon dying in my arms; about how I turned the Mage – only it isn’t the Mage in my dreams. Sometimes it’s Bunce; other times it’s my mother. Most times it’s Simon.

Every time though, Simon is there when I wake up in a cold sweat. He holds onto me and keeps me from being dragged down into someplace dark and haunted. Simon is always there to kiss my tears away and whisper that I’m okay. He cocoons us under a wing (yeah, apparently nothing could break _that_ spell…) and nuzzles up under my jaw and only then, am I able to breathe easier.

Weeks turn into months, and before we know it, we’re in a Serious Relationship. And it was the best feeling in the world.

“Morning, love.” I grin into Simon’s skin as he squirms and mumbles into consciousness.

“Mmlike this…” he coos, wrapping his arms around me and rolling to rest his head on top of my chest. His ridiculous curls tickle against my neck and I brush my fingers through them.

The autumn winds have carried leaves up to our windowsill, and I stare out at the wispy clouds.

“You’re still coming, right?” Simon lifts his head and sandwiches a hand between his chin and my chest.

I groan dramatically and tug his other hand to my mouth, planting kisses on the inside of his wrist so my response ends up muffled against his skin.

“Do I _have_ to, Snow…?”

He pulls his arm away and uses it to prop himself up above me, which I use to my advantage and kiss his neck instead. The fool.

“Today’s the one day where we don’t have to worry about hiding our true selves, Baz. Which is to say – _yes_, you do.”

“It’s commercial.”

“It’s _fun_.”

“_This _is fun…”

Simon grins and moves away teasingly. I bite the air below his chin and smirk at him.

“Oh alright, _fine_, we’ll go to the bloody Halloween party.”

Simon beams – his whole face lights up when he smiles, and it’s fucking glorious. He leans down and kisses me, holding my neck while I run my hand up his waist and trace his ribs.

Simon is panting when he pulls away, but he’s still grinning as he rests his forehead against mine.

“Have I ever told you that your fangs are a total turn on…?” he whispers and I laugh, pulling him back down to my lips.

Crowley, I love One Idiot.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
Wayward Son comes out TODAY!! Can you believe it?! Happy Book Birthday and happy reading! (But PLEASE don't add spoilers in the comments, because I haven't even received my email to say my copy has even arrived at the WAREHOUSE yet )
> 
> <3


End file.
